Into the mind of the Joker
by Kcc1
Summary: This little short story is about the Jokers past and how he got to the way he is now! Post DK.


Well this a short story no part two

Well this is a short story no part two!

It's a delve into Jokers past as a child without a name, a child that never smiled.

Hope you like it.

Don't own Joker or Batman...

(This is an edited version of the first one I wrote)

--

How shall I start, Well Batman had me put behind bars once again. It gives me time to think about other things. My past, it is not vary funny one. No it's far from funny.

My name, I've always been known as the Joker...never had a real name before. Well one that I liked any way. Mother did give me a name. Jack or something like that. She never called me by my name. She was too transfixed on her alcohol to even give me the time of day. A Father I had one but Mother said he had left years ago.

When she did it was usually to boss me around beat me up and ask the same old question.

"Why don't you ever smile?" She'd ask me every day.

Would you smile if your mother beat you over the head? Starved you, made you so weak that you looked pale as a ghost. She'd kept me up all night with her screaming, so in the morning I woke up weaker and tired.

My appearance was normal to me. My hair had taken on a green tint to it. Never washed it the color just stuck. My skin was bleached white, one of mother's games; she bleached my skin white permanently. I had bags under my eyes. When I'd look in the mirror I had dark circles around my eyes. I looked like I belonged in a circus. I could have been a clown, or a freak.

I had to deal with that annoying woman for years. Chaos rang in my ears, drove me to insanity.

When I was in my teens...I hardly ember how old I was... I remember becoming fed up with Mothers question of my smile. I'd give her a nice big smile. Just for her!

You see I went into the kitchen. It was a mess pots pans plates all thrown onto the floor. Broken glass lay all around. I rummaged around in one of the draws and found an old dirty rusted knife.

I walked quickly and quietly to the bath room and looked into the mirror. There I was a pale skinny boy with the dark green hair. Tired dark eye's with rings around them from the lack of sleep. I looked into the mirror and smiled. I lifted up the knife and stuck it in my mouth. I lined the knife up so it was perfectly lined up with my smile.

I remember pulling the knife along my cheek. Red began to show on my cheek and like a waterfall fell down my face. I pulled it out when I was satisfied and lined it up to the other side and quickly ran it across my cheek and pulled. More red, blood, fell out of my newly formed smile.

I held the knife up to my eyes and saw it was covered in blood. I looked in the mirror and saw the amazingly beautiful color of crimson running down my cheeks. I smiled; it hurt when the air made contact with my new smile. It stung and hurt. Why did it hurt to smile? It didn't hurt a minute ago.

I formed my mouth back into a grimace. The crimson red still flowed down my cheeks freely. It had lessened a little. The pain stopped as well.

Even though I had a grimace on my face I also had a smile. A permanent smile, but a smile none the less.

I could hear mother grunting and getting off of the couch. I heard her stumble offer some booze bottles as she made her way to the bathroom. Mother walked in and saw my face, what I had done, and all the blood, the perfect smile.

I looked at her and smiled.

"What's wrong mother? You said you wanted me to smile. Are you glad I'm smiling just for you?" I walked up to her. "You not happy..."

A look of horror crossed her face. She eyed the knife in my hand then she slowly backed up out of the bathroom door. Her foot caught and she tripped over her bottles of booze.

I sat down next to her. "I know you're not happy...but I can fix that."

I held the knife up to her nice red lips. She was trembling "Please…" She croaked. I stuck the knife into her mouth and lined it up with her lips.

"Let's put a smile on that face of yours."

--

I remember running out of the house after she had died. She died from shock. I didn't even carve her a smile and she died.

I looked back at the place I had lived in for so long. It was my own little hell on earth. I never called it home. The area I lived in was the slums of Gotham. The lowest of the low lived here, the trash and garbage or scum as some called us.

My cheeks still stung. It would no likely leave scars. I had wiped the blood of my cheeks and now had two perfect slits running up my face.

I walked around down town Gotham, out of the slums and into the fancier parts of town. It was odd one minute you're watching bums scavenge for trash the next you see old pricks in there custom made suits walking around town. There eyes held some sort of look as if they were better then every one. All the fancy people had that look, the look of suspicion when people came to close or talked to them.

But the most suspicious person they saw on the street was me. Every person that past stared at me in disgust. I glared back at them then I smiled holding the bloody knife up. They'd quickly turn away leave in a hurry.

I crossed the street and turned a corner. I was standing in front of a toy store. I'd never anything so amazing before. I quickly lost interest when I saw a boy and an older gentle man window shopping.

"No…no Alfred not that one..." I could hear a young boy's voice. He pointed to a large stuffed animal.

I turned and watched the well dressed young boy. He had dark hair and dark eyes as well. He looked like a spoiled brat.

I watched his eye's move from the toys and lock onto mine. He looked up at the older man. This Alfred had a look of fear across his face.

"Alfred what is that?" He asked pointing to me as if I was some kind of animal. I glared at him. Alfred gently pushed the young boys arm down. "Now Bruce it's rude to point…"

I watched Bruce put his hand up to his nose. "Come on Alfred that freak is stinking up the place." I watched Bruce and Alfred leave. The young began pestering him about why some one like me was around this part of town.

I could have killed him. I could have run up behind him and stabbed him. But no…something stopped me. It made me sick watching him walk away, all smug like he owned the place. Before he was out of sight he turned and mouthed the word "Freak…"

I froze, god knew I wanted to kill him but he was gone know. It was people like that that made me what I am today!

That day I broke, I found my self laughing hysterically, just laughing no-stop. It was funny what had happened to me. I was free of the witch and yet I was bound to something more now. A burden for killing her, it was a curse. I was bound forever to be someone nobody knew about. I could change that…I would be known. I would strike fear into Gotham cities heart, its soul and no one would stop me!

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This is a quick write I hoped you liked it...no there is no sequel!


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